


Grey Dawn Breaking

by ClutchHedonist



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (they do have a safeword! but tagging just in case!), Dom/sub, Dysfunctional Relationships, Elias Bouchard Being a Bastard, Everyone Is Being a Bastard, Humiliation, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Peter Lukas Being a Bastard, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Returning Home, Rough Sex, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27167333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClutchHedonist/pseuds/ClutchHedonist
Summary: “I’d hardly noticed you were gone, actually.”It’s a lie. It’s always a lie, between them, except when it’s meant to look like one. Peter crowds up behind him at the counter. Elias huffs and sets down the bottle of merlot.“Is that so?” Peter murmurs just beneath his ear.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 5
Kudos: 143





	Grey Dawn Breaking

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Although it is later clarified textually that these two have a safeword in place, Elias does protest certain actions in this fic (although he certainly doesn't use it).

“I’d hardly noticed you were gone, actually.”

It’s a lie. It’s always a lie, between them, except when it’s meant to look like one. Peter crowds up behind him at the counter. Elias huffs and sets down the bottle of merlot.

“Is that so?” Peter murmurs just beneath his ear.

Elias suppresses a shudder as he feels Peter’s teeth drag over his earlobe, “You’re awfully jovial this evening.”

“Comes from seeing you so surprised, I’d imagine.” Peter replies.

“I’m not surprised, Peter, I’m  _ busy. _ ” Elias sniffs, “Your arrival is merely a complication.”

“Call it what you want.” Peter shrugs as he pulls him back by the hips, “Either way, it seems as if you weren’t expecting me.”

Elias wrinkles his nose and leans back into Peter’s broad chest, “What a charming assumption, that I would spend my time observing you.”

Peter’s hands are on his waist, now, twisting him around to face him, and Elias’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of him. Peter is always at his best fresh from the Forsaken, sated and smelling of sea spray, hands calloused and insistent. He tugs Elias to him, claims his mouth with his own, rough and restless, and Elias feels himself melt into him. He rises up onto his toes to twine his arms around Peter’s shoulders. God help him, he’s fond of this body, certainly, but neglecting the potential size difference between it and his inevitable Lukas counterpart had been a serious (if sometimes rather pleasant) oversight. 

Elias feels the counter nudging against the small of his back and doesn’t protest when Peter presses him up onto it as if he were nothing. His knees come to rest in what Elias certainly does not consider ‘their place’ at either side of Peter’s waist. Peter is already playing at the buttons of his waistcoat. Elias laughs, high and throaty.

“My, my, Peter. You must have missed me terribly.” He swipes.

“Not really.” Peter retorts into the hollow of his neck.

Elias’s reply dies in his throat when Peter bites down. He can feel the blood rush into his temples, hisses and scrabbles his hands up beneath Peter’s jacket to dig his nails into his skin. Peter gives a pleased little shudder and pops the last button off entirely.

“Brute.” Elias exhales, “This is custom made.”

Peter grins against his skin, “I’ll buy you another one.”

Elias arches one dark brow, “Will you, now?”

“Tomorrow morning.” He lifts Elias from the counter entirely, “If you’re still here, of course.”

“This is  _ my  _ flat, Peter.” Elias points out as Peter makes his way towards the bedroom. 

Peter deposits him on the bed, hesitating to join him only long enough to shuck his boots and jacket, “Doesn’t mean much, in my experience.” 

“Funny, you looking forward to anyone being anywhere.” Elias needles. 

“Nobody’s perfect.” Peter sighs. He grips the collar of Elias’s shirt and yanks. The buttons cascade to the floor in a shower of minute click-clacks, “Oh, dear. Look at that.”

“ _ Peter! _ ” Elias gapes, affronted.

“Bad luck, Elias.” Peter remarks easily as he drags the shirt from his shoulders. 

Elias wrinkles his nose and pushes at his chest. Peter merely seizes both of his wrists, pins them up beside his head without a second thought. Elias’s pulse skips. 

“Oh, this is how it’s meant to be, is it?” He sneers up at him. If his voice comes out slightly more ragged than expected, he’s hardly going to do himself the indignity of looking flustered by it. 

“Well, that depends, doesn’t it?” Peter chuckles.

Elias tests his grip, tries his best to keep from flushing upon finding it like iron, “On what, precisely?”

“Your behavior, I expect.” Peter tells him. Elias can feel his fingers tighten around his wrists, an offering, a threat. 

“My behavior?” Elias scoffs, “I’ve been perfectly cordial.”

“Have you?” Peter goads, nipping down the length of his neck, “Seems a bit generous to call it ‘cordial’.”

Elias lets out a sliver of a breath, “I’ve been  _ civil. _ ”

“Very nearly.” Peter agrees.

One of his thighs works its way between Elias’s, and Elias can’t help but shudder. Elias allows his hips to cant up, worrying at his bottom lip. The friction is painfully fleeting before Peter draws back to look at him. Elias frowns up at him.

“Well, that demonstrated considerably little vigor for a man more than a century my junior.” He puffs.

“Oh, Elias. You can’t tell me you expected me to praise you overmuch for just one little admission.” Peter drawls.

“I don’t need your praise.” Elias snaps.

“Don’t you?” Peter drops a hand between them. 

Elias can feel him undoing the buttons on his trousers, and then he’s grinding the heel of his hand against his arousal beneath them. Elias grits his teeth, “I don’t.” He insists, “I am perfectly capable of maintaining my own dignity.”

“Mm. Then perhaps that’s not what you’re looking for, tonight.” Peter grins, and Elias’s stomach drops at the flash of his teeth.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He rebuffs him.

Peter laughs, a musical, resonant baritone that makes something in Elias’s chest prickle, “That’s a first.”

“You  _ know  _ what I  _ mean. _ ” Elias clips.

“I know a good number of things about you, Elias.” Peter muses, “Not as many as you Know about me, I’d wager, but close.” He slides one rough palm up Elias’s thigh, “But tell me, how many men  _ has  _ it been in all those years, mm?”

“It’s hardly any of your business.” Elias jeers, “Unless, of course, you’re referring specifically to your ancestors, in which case-” Peter clamps a hand over his mouth. Elias snorts a petulant laugh up into it.

“Not precisely what I’m asking, no.” Peter grunts, and then the warmth returns to his voice, “What I’m asking, Elias-” The hand slides back into his hair, entwining in it to slowly, decisively pull until Elias’s entire body is bowstring tight, “-is whether or not you realize what a little slut you are.”

“ _Hhh_ -” Elias’s eyes roll back, breath leaving him entirely, “I’ve b-been...informed of the possibility.”

Peter’s eyes twinkle with amusement, “I suppose you have, what with you making it so terribly obvious. Well, with this-” He traces his fingertips across the line of Elias’s cock, “-making it so obvious. Is it just this body, mm? Or is it what’s inside of it?”

Elias smirks up at him, “What’s inside it presently, or what you hope has the potential to be later this evening?”

“You see? This is what I meant, Elias.” Peter presses as he sits up, “You’re just so eager for punishment tonight.”

“Punishment.” Elias mocks scornfully, “And I suppose you expect that you- hhk!” Peter has him by the waist, turns him over one thigh with little effort. Elias’s eyes widen, “Peter, you will not _ ,  _ you absolutely will not-”

His trousers are around his knees before he has further chance to protest, and the first stinging blow sets the sparing flesh of his ass alight. 

“ _ Bastard! _ ” He barks. Balling one fist, he batters ineffectually at Peter’s thigh, “I’ll-”

Elias yelps beneath the next strike, and Peter laughs, “Sorry, what was that?”

Elias snarls and writhes in his grip, but Peter holds firm, and another well-placed smack has Elias worrying helplessly at his bottom lip. Peter can hear him trying to even out the rhythm of his breathing.

“You are the worst, the absolute worst, do you know what?” He sears, “I loathe you.”

Peter digs his nails in, and Elias strangles a keen in his throat.

“I’m not sure I know anyone else who gets so excited about this, you know.” Peter taunts, “Really, Elias, if you wanted to be demeaned so badly-”

“I don’t, I  _ don’t _ .” Elias insists through gritted teeth.

“That’s not what your cock seems to think.” Peter counters, “In fact, I’d wager that you like it very much when a man treats you like the slut you really are.” 

Elias shivers, fingers curling, “I-I-”

“Always up on that pedestal of yours.” Peter continues, branding another welted handprint into him as he does, “You’d do anything for someone to knock you off it. See you for what you really are:  _ desperate _ .”

“Peter-” Elias breathes, and now his hips are grinding down into Peter’s thigh, cock beginning to leak against Peter’s trousers. 

“Oh, and you love that it’s me, don’t you?” Peter nearly purrs, “The best education money could pay for, and I took it to the sea. And now here I am to pluck you from your ivory tower, and you’re practically drooling for it.” 

Elias lets out a whimper. He presses one burning cheek into the thousand thread count sheets, “Please.” He croaks.

“Please what, Elias?” Peter asks.

“H-...” He struggles to claw the word from his own throat, stabs it directly into Peter’s mind instead.  _ Harder. Harder. _

“Now, now, that’s not fair.” Peter chides, “What fun is it if you don’t have to hear exactly what you’re like? What the great Jonah Magnus sounds like when he begs for it?”

Elias gives a frustrated groan, “I know what I sound like.”

“Mmm, in general, I suppose. But here, tonight, right now? With me?” Peter grins, “Well, you can’t know that until you hear it, can you?”

There’s a low tremble running through Elias’s entire body. He takes a deep breath to keep it from his voice, “Peter. Hit- ...hit me harder.” He finally forces out.

“Ah ah ah. Ask  _ nicely. _ ” Peter scolds. 

One hand runs over the curve of his ass, and Elias can already feel the beginnings of the bruises that’ll be there the next morning, “Please.” He strains.

Peter gives him a gentle swat that sets him quaking nonetheless, “All together, now.”

Elias stutters out a moan. He’s so hard he can barely see straight, fingers fisted in the sheets, and the slick patch on Peter’s thigh has grown preposterous. Even the cool air as Peter moves to withdraw his hand feels as if it’s biting into his skin.

“Well, if that’s all you can handle-” Peter begins.

“ _ Please _ .” Elias gasps out as he curls into him, “Peter, please. More. Harder. All of it. Please.” 

“Well, well.” Peter croons.

Elias feels him soothe his fingertips over his burning skin, and then, all at once, the mercy is gone. 

Peter is a riptide, overcoming him, drowning him. Elias is suffocating, is gagging, is howling and twisting both hands in his own hair to weather the onslaught. Peter is salt and iron. Ruthless, battering him until Elias’s toes curl, until his throat is raw from crying out.

“Look at you.” Peter growls, low, “Look at how much you love this, Elias. Being broken, being  _ used. _ ” Elias’s hips pitch dangerously, and Peter halts his barrage to drag him up until he’s straddling his lap, “Oh, no, no, I think not. Not yet.”

Elias tangles his hands into his hair, attacks his mouth. Peter laughs against his lips. Elias feels him reach out towards the nightstand.

“Still in the-” He begins.

“Side table, yes.” Elias hurries out and devours him again.

Peter isn’t gentle with him, doesn’t flinch from gripping his overwarm skin to spread him open. Doesn’t bother with one finger, despite the overwhelming stretch that forcing in two makes Elias endure. He drops his face into Peter’s shoulder, grinds his teeth, whines.

“Bastard,  _ bastard. _ ” He growls even as his hips jerk against the intrusion.

“Nothing too difficult for you, I assume.” Peter says simply.

“I hate you.” Elias seethes. 

Peter smirks, brows lifting, “Does that mean you don’t expect a third before-?”

“Peter, I  _ swear _ -” He gives a little whimper as Peter withdraws, undoes his own trousers to position him over himself, “Peter! That’s-”

“You know, Elias, none of this is that pretty word you use to say ‘no’.” Peter teases.

Elias stares up at him, “You- I-”

“I thought so.”

He drags him down, and Elias’s voice breaks around his name. Elias’s arms lash out for him like an anchor, nails digging into Peter’s shoulders as soon as he’s got them around him. It’s not that he’s waited for him, per se. Simply that the opportunity hasn’t presented itself in the last few months. But this,  _ this.  _ The way Peter’s cock splits him, hollows him out to make space for itself. Elias chokes out his appreciation, scratches trails into Peter’s skin until his nails come back red-pink. 

Peter’s hands fall to his hips, and Elias may as well be made of paper for the easy way he manhandles him down over himself. Elias loses himself in it, in the rhythm of Peter forcing his body where he wants it, Peter groaning into his throat, Peter taking what he wants from him, Peter, Peter,  _ Peter.  _

He doesn’t realize that he’s wailing it like a mantra until he’s already coming, limbs tight around him and body seizing. And when Peter comes in him,  _ God,  _ when Peter comes in him, and Elias can See precisely what it feels like, can taste the way Peter  _ savors  _ him-

Neither of them are, as a rule, prone to cuddling. But Peter unwinds his limbs from around himself with hands so gentle that Elias can scarcely believe that they’re the same ones. He slumps down into the sheets, smears his hair away from his face with one shaking hand. Peter’s weight shifts on the opposite side of the bed, and Elias hears his remaining clothing drop onto the floor. Then, he’s sinking down beside him, just close enough for Elias’s shoulder to brush his chest. Elias turns his head to meet his gaze. The corner of Peter’s mouth pricks up.

“Oh, do stop smirking at me.” Elias huffs.

“But I was right.” Peter supplies.

Elias rolls his eyes, “I hardly dare to ask. About what?”

“I always knew you were capable of a warm welcome.” 

**Author's Note:**

> god i love these awful bastards. join me in my descent at clutchhedonist.tumblr.com.


End file.
